


Like Achilles and Patroclus

by Manderine (Manderin3)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mild BL Route Spoilers, Mild Gore, Nightmares, dunno why my 1st fe3h fic is so pensive but I oop, it all happens in a dream though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manderin3/pseuds/Manderine
Summary: Dimitri had assumed that Dedue was dead for awhile now, but on another restless night, he failed to realize the flame within himself was still very much alive.





	Like Achilles and Patroclus

**Author's Note:**

> I was snatched so hard by everyone posting good Dimidue content that it's been throttling me until I wrote something for them. At the time of publishing this, I'm only five hours into the game, so I apologize if some of my plot things aren't spot on. If you've read the Illiad, you'll figure out why I titled this piece such.

Sleep hadn’t been kind to Dimitri for the past few years. No matter his attempts to combat it, nothing could dispel the nightmares that haunted him. Sleep was no longer a source of respite for him, but rather another distraction that kept him from getting anything important done. The exhaustion was second nature, at this point.

  
He sat in the lounging chair across from the bed, slumping over in tiredness. He rubbed his eyelids with the inner bend of his wrist; even his dead eye ached in his drowsiness. Perhaps he could at least try to lie down, he thought, just to let his body rest for awhile. He didn’t have any hope that tonight would be different, but he saw no point in avoiding it any longer.

  
The mattress groaned as he lowered himself, the mess of his hair splaying out on his pillow like a bluff of dead grass agitated by the wind. He could feel the tension in his shoulders that crept all the way down his spine, keeping his whole body stiff. He let out a low exhale in an attempt to relax himself. He didn’t completely intend to fall into unconsciousness, but it soon naturally washed over him.

  
He opened his eye, mumbling a swear as he found himself at a familiar location. It was a wide, flat plain, one that would’ve been green and flourishing had it been left untouched, but its grass was thoroughly trampled, the dusty earth now littered with small rocks and discarded weapons. The sky above was grey and forlorn, with large, angry clouds swallowing up the horizon. It perpetually threatened the start of a storm, and yet, in this world, rain never came.

  
Dimitri stumbled a step backwards, feeling strained under the full weight of his armor. He met the gaze of a long line of figures that circled him: spectres of the fallen, those he failed to protect. They almost seemed alive, but there was always a distinct glaze over their eyes, a paleness to their form that spoke otherwise. Their unblinking gazes stared deep into Dimitri, he couldn’t linger eye contact on any one of them for too long, lest he chill himself to the bone. He recognized faces out of the crowd as he passed over them, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of one in particular. Dedue.

  
Dimitri would sometimes see him here, concealed towards the back of the group, but this time, he stepped forward, and the rest of the fallen parted to make a path for him. Dimitri’s breath shuddered. He had reason to believe his vassal had died, and had affirmed so in his mind, but having his spirit approach him like this? It was almost too much to bear.

  
Yet Dimitri couldn’t help but stare as Dedue drew closer. He stood out against the others, colorful and vibrant, his eyes shimmering with vitality. His face gave a warm smile as he got closer to the prince, Dimitri marvelling at the sight. He knew having the dead come to him like this was insane, he had accepted that long ago, but for once, he felt something aside from dread. The warmth that Dedue gave out… he was radiant. Beautiful.

  
“Dedue,” he breathed as he hesitantly took a step towards him. “How are you--”

  
His train of thought halted as Dedue gently took his hands. Dimitri’s heart fluttered. In Dedue’s warmth, the chill that had previously gripped him dissipated.

  
“It’s alright, Your Highness,” Dedue said, his voice soft and sweet, “I am here now. That is all that matters.”

  
Dimitri almost melted, being able to hear his voice again. He so badly wanted to believe him, that he was still by his side, alive, at his beck and call, just like it was at the monastery, but he couldn’t lie to himself. As much as he yearned for it, as much as he pleaded that it wasn’t the case, he knew that the Dedue before him was not real. He was only a memory now, a portrait of everything he had adored about him.

  
As soon as the thought came to him, he let go of Dedue’s hands. Dedue’s expression turned solemn, he knew what conclusion Dimitri had come to. Dimitri’s heart panged, and he turned his head away from Dedue, forcing himself to not look at him. “I’m sorry, Dedue. It’s just… I can’t. You’re not--”

  
“You know what you have to do, Your Highness.”

  
Dimitri felt a pit in his stomach. He was shocked he had forgotten it himself, his promise of revenge, to take down whoever had stolen his loved ones from him. He knew in his heart he felt it the most for Dedue, agonizing in his absence, fantasizing about spilling the blood of his attackers, yet the fury that usually resided in him was replaced by a deep sorrow.

  
He shook his head. “I-I know, Dedue. I want to, but…” He stopped, catching a sob that attempted to form in his throat. He turned the rest of himself away from Dedue, finding it unbearable to stand before him any longer.

  
With his back turned, he suddenly heard a clash of metal, flesh against blade, and Dedue’s pained yell. Dimitri whirled back around, his eye wide and fearful as he watched Dedue being wounded. An indistinct figure made of shadows stood behind him, and had thrusted a greatsword into his midriff. With a forceful yank, he drew the sword back, ripping Dedue’s flesh further, and dissipated into nothingness.

  
“Dedue!” Dimitri screamed. His heart leapt into his throat as he rushed forward, catching Dedue in his arms as he fell forward with a strained groan. He carefully laid him down, panickedly pressing his hand over the wound to try to slow the bleeding. It was futile, his blood flowed too freely.

  
“No. No, no, no,” he pleaded, his composure coming undone. Was this how Dedue had died? Was this how he was meant to die, in his prince’s arms? This moment was a facade, a nightmare, but to Dimitri, it was painfully real.

  
Dedue shakily reached a hand to Dimitri’s face, resting his palm on his cheek. The warmth that once filled him was fading quickly, turning cold, just like the others. Dimitri hastily grabbed his vassal’s hand, bloodied fingers intertwining with Dedue’s, his other arm still wrapped behind his broad shoulders.

  
“... Dimitri…” Dedue murmured, using his last breath.

  
“Dedue! I never got to tell you...”

  
Before he could finish, Dimitri despaired to see Dedue’s eyes, once fresh and alive, now washed over by that familiar glaze. A great pain rose in Dimitri’s chest, as if he too was stabbed, and swelled over until his tears began to flow freely. He pounded a fist against the ground, lowering his head, dirt mingling with his face and clinging to his hair.

  
He gave out a loud sob, realizing he had never truly allowed himself to grieve for Dedue. He had lost so many before, he had instinctively repressed it, but the agony of losing Dedue, dearest to his heart, caught up with him.

  
He flung his arms around Dedue’s body, burying his head in his chest, now cold as stone. He wailed in release, his whole body shuddering as he cried. He screamed out his sorrow, his regret that he had never told him how much he meant to him. How he always wanted more, but had shied away from ever asking, fearful of how it would upset their bond, believing that he didn’t deserve any reciprocation. Dedue had deserved the truth, though, and Dimitri cursed himself for never sharing it.

  
He raised his sniveling head, cusping Dedue’s in his hands. He brushed a strand of silver hair out of his face, smearing his temple with his blood. Even as a corpse, Dimitril found him beautiful. He brought their lips together, chanting I love you, I love you, over and over again in his mind, in the vain hope that somehow, his thoughts could reach him.

  
Dimitri woke up, startled, realizing he was alone, and in bed. He wiped off the tears from his cheek. It was a dream, just like all the others, but Dedue was still gone.

  
Now sitting up, Dimitri cradled his legs, his head falling to his knees. Again he cried, his pain now present in reality, no longer bound to only a nightmare. He missed his vassal, his other half, his love. He was incomplete without him.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was a real bruh moment, I'll tell you that. I was curious to explore the idea of Dedue showing up in Dimitri's nightmares, though, so I'm happy I got to do that. I've just finished reading the Illiad in class, and I felt so silly, because every time I'd read interactions between Achilles and Patroclus/Patroclus dying, it'd always give me Dimidue vibes. Plus, the themes in the poem of heroism and destiny ties really well into Fire Emblem in general. Thanks for letting me geek out lol.
> 
> Also, I ended up doing a drawing for this fic during Inktober, so here's the link to that: https://queenofepic.tumblr.com/post/188535089707/inktober-day-22-ghost-this-ones-super-late


End file.
